


tangerine

by allstars



Series: double f for fluff and fruits [1]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Angst and Fluff and Smut, Anxiety Disorder, Artist Steve Rogers, Bisexual Steve Rogers, Bucky Barnes Has Issues, Bucky Barnes Needs a Hug, Bucky Barnes Recovering, Domestic Bucky Barnes/Steve Rogers, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Post-Serum Steve Rogers, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Protective Steve Rogers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-23
Updated: 2019-10-23
Packaged: 2020-12-31 14:57:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,669
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21147593
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/allstars/pseuds/allstars
Summary: "And what are you, Bucky?""I'm the sun, honey. Always watching you."





	tangerine

**Author's Note:**

> so, i had this weird dream with the word tangerine and i needed to write SOMETHING with it. i don't know where this idea came from, but i'm grateful for this fluffy stucky little thing i wrote, it's certainly my favorite thing i ever wrote. hope you enjoy!
> 
> (a couple things to keep in mind: 
> 
> bucky is recovering of all that hydra shit and they fucked him up so bad he can't even talk like a decent human again. but he tries. and steve's patient.  
he remembers a little of what happened and prefers not to keep pushing these memories. instead, he works on being better and talk better for himself, and for steve.  
they live together, steve paints a lot a bucky loves it.)

As the sun rises, Steve gets up. He never liked to sleep much — _it's literally a waste of time, Buck! _— so he gets out of bed and goes to his studio and starts painting. The sky is filled with orange with a bit of yellow, and he paints it. A few hours later, he hears Bucky calling for him.

"Stevie?"

He smiles, like he always does every morning when his friend does that. Then, he shouts back:

"Here, Buck!"

— and goes back to the finishing touches of the orange sky that now is slowly turning blue outside.

Steve loves the way Bucky checks on him every day, but if Bucky wakes up and Steve isn't there, he panics, in the most literal meaning of the word. Steve never _ever_ goes out until he's awake.

So he paints every morning waiting for Bucky. One day, he said he liked Steve's paintings much more that pictures — he said in his way, struggling to find the right words, still not used to talk. Since then, Steve paints so he can show him what he missed while he was asleep. And Bucky loves it.

While he's in the studio, he feels two warm hands on his shoulder and smiles. He turns to the man behind him, never letting go his right hand while he does,then kisses his flesh hand and the metal one. "Good morning", the artist says it so softly, almost a whisper. A secret they share.

Bucky, like always, squeezes Steve's hands and just grins, and that's just enough. He knows what Bucky wants to say — sometimes, most of times, he doesn't say nothing at all, but Steve understands and gives his space. Bucky quietly thanks the stars every night for that.

That little routine they created was totally intentional, at least when it comes to Steve's part. He once read somewhere that routine makes anxious people (and people that have PTSD, like Bucky) feel a little better. Something about having a sense of control of their lives. That being said, he doesn't care about doing their little ritual every morning since he can't quite remember when.

"Made this for you. The sky was pretty today," Steve says, showing his painting. Bucky sits by his side and stares at it for a couple minutes, not saying a word. Then, he leans his head on Steve's shoulder, sighs and says:

"Pretty. No. _No_. _Not this word._" As he says the last sentence, his voice changes. He's still struggling to find the right words for everything.

He hides his head on Steve's neck, breathing, trying to remember, and Steve wants to cry so damn hard, but all he can do is be strong. For him.

He takes Bucky's hand — the metal one — and gives him time.

Finally, he feels Bucky smile on his chest. He looks up.

"Gorg... Gorgeous. It's gorgeous."

"There you go, Buck," Steve manages to say. Every little step Bucky takes by his own is some kind of miracle to him. "Thanks."

Bucky smiles like a little kid. He touches the painting and closes his eyes.

"What do you wanna call it, honey?" Steve always asks, just like he did now — another little exercise for his memory. Usually, Bucky takes more time to think of something, but this time he opens his eyes right away and looks at Steve.

"Tangerine," he says.

He gets up and kisses the painting, then leaves the room.

Steve cries for at least 10 minutes before joining him again.

* * *

They sit and eat quietly. Bucky notices Steve's red eyes but doesn't say a word. He wants to feel better, to _be_ better, for him and for Steve, and that's why he's trying so hard. When Steve is busy, he opens the dictionary to learn — to remember — a few more words.

He doesn't remember much of Hydra, or why he has to learn how to speak properly again, probably because he didn't needed to say much there. He needed to do stuff and not say anything about it.

The very thinking of it makes him anxious. So he shakes it off and just do what he has to do — learn to be himself again. Steve helps a lot, more than anyone.

Last night, Bucky opened the T section of the dictionary right after Steve gave him good night and disappeared. He found this new word — he doesn't quite remember what a tangerine looks like, but it's orange (the book said it, so he believes) just like the sky Stevie painted. It also said it has sweet taste, and it must really have, because Bucky saw the smile on his friend's face when he left the studio.

"Shopping today?" Bucky asks, and Steve gets his request. He smiles the biggest smile.

"What do you wanna buy, huh?

"I wanna taste tangerines."

* * *

The next morning starts the same, but Bucky wakes up a little earlier this time, sits next to Steve and just watches him finish the blue cloudy sky he's doing on the studio.

"Steve."

"Yes, Buck?"

"No, _Steve_. It's.. the name. I want to name it Steve. Is blue like your eyes. Br... Bri... Bright," he finally says, and let's out a breath, like he was holding until he found his words.

Steve smiles the biggest smile again, it's a thing, Bucky thinks, he does when Bucky says something right. Something he likes.

Bucky doesn't realizes for a moment that he's holding Steve's face with both oh his hands. He lost time again, but this time he doesn't mind. Steve's eyes are so so bright, and it's gorgeous.

"Stevie, you're so blue", he whispers.

"Am I?" Steve asks, and _his eyelashes are so long_, Bucky thinks to himself.

"You are. Yes. That's why I look the sky... And see you."

Bucky places a little kiss on Steve's nose and gets up.

"Your eyes. Look like a storm. Sad?"

"No, not sad Bucky. I'm happy. So happy."

"Good," he turns to leave again, but stops. "Storms can be happy?" He asks, looking confused.

"In this case, yes, honey."

Bucky kisses the paint and sits with Steve again. "I like storms then."

"So do I," Steve says, and he finally let himself cry, the happy storm taking over his face. Bucky thinks Steve's storm is so pretty that he let's himself have one on his face too.

* * *

"Do you remember the ocean?" Steve asks Bucky one night.

He thinks for a minute before saying "The ocean. Saw it on TV."

"No, honey," Steve takes Bucky's metal hand. "Do you remember the waves, the salty water and what it tastes like, the hot sand on your feet?"

"No," he whispers closing his eyes.

"Then I'm taking you to the beach."

Bucky opens his eyes and pauses for a second, then smiles.

"Okay." 

* * *

"Here, honey, take my hand. It's okay, I swear."

Steve tries to calm Bucky down, but still is too much for him. There are so many people in the beach, and Bucky feels like he's being watched all the time, looking at every possible side, then looking at Steve again. He seems so scared he might run away, but finally takes Steve hands.

"Do you trust me?" Steve asks, and instead of saying anything Bucky hugs him and tries to breath more easily, until he finally is feeling good again.

_The ocean. Not scary_, he thinks. _And Steve. Steve is here. _

Steve takes that as a yes, and then switches sides with Bucky, holding his left hand, not the flesh one, showing he loves him in every single way and it's gonna be fine.

He feels Bucky looking at him, then at the metal hand, and squeezes his touch.

"Okay," he says, and then they are on the ocean.

At first, Bucky holds him so tight it almost hurts, then he slowly gets used to the water and gets over the fear.

"'s good," he mutters, and looks around. "But so much people."

"They like the ocean too, you see?"

"I like."

"Really?"

"It's blue like you. Like the sky is you too. And the storms... Happy."

Steve thinks for a moment. Oh, the waves. _The waves are the storms_. He smiles. He doesn't know how Bucky came up with that, but he sure as hell likes this name even more.

"The storms are strong but they make me good. Feel good? Feel. Yes, feel good. And they are... Calm. They are like you too. Blue and calm and strong."

"And what are you, Bucky?"

"_I'm the sun, honey_. Always watching you."

* * *

The next day Steve paints the sun watching over the ocean and its waves, _storms_, and Bucky names this one "_Stevebucky__, like this, together, because it's us together, honey" _and kisses Steve's hands — both of them — but doesn't leave the room.

He started to call Steve honey too.

"You are everything, Steve."

"Am I? And why's that, honey?"

"Because you are."

"Okay."

Bucky takes another look at the painting in front of them.

"Does the sun ever leaves the sky, Stevie?"

"No, Buck. He just hides every night."

"That's us, right? Sometimes I hide and I... Can't find words and be anxious and sit and go angry but I'll never leave. Because you are you. You are the sky and you help. You're my sky. Always there."

Steve hugs him. "That's right, yes. And you know what? We can't see the sky without the sun. You're my light. I'm only here because of you. Because I have my sun."

"And the moon?" _What about the moon_, he meant to ask, but these were the words he found. Steve, like always, knows what he meant.

"The moon borrows the sunlight. It's you, day and night."

"It is?"

"It is, honey."

"And everyday the sun touches the ocean—"

"—when the sun rises and sets, yes."

"Looks like a kiss." Steve nods. "Can we kiss?"

But Bucky doesn't have to ask because that's all Steve ever wanted and was so afraid to do, because to him Bucky is this delicate flower still learning how to grow again. It seems like he already did.

So Steve leans in his direction slowly, nods and waits, and Bucky holds his face like he does sometimes, smiles, closes his eyes and that's it.

They stay like this for a minute, foreheads touching and breathing the same air, so close... Then Bucky opens his eyes and kisses Steve so gently he almost misses the sensation, but it's there, and Steve's whole body is on fire and every touch of Bucky is Oxygen and he wants more.

So he kisses back, slowly, and holds his lover close, wishing this isn't just a dream.

They share their love for long, never saying a word.

Bucky is the first to break the silence.

"Sunrise and sunset."

Steve doesn't need to ask this time. He gets it, nods and kisses Bucky once again.

"And a happy storm," he says because both of them have tears on their eyes.

* * *

One day, Bucky asks Steve to paint him.

"You want me to paint you? I already d-"

"No, no, Stevie. Paint _in me_. Make me your... What's that? Hm... Your canvas."

Steve kisses his forehead. "Okay."

He grabs his pencils and paintings. Then goes to his bedroom and grabs his pillow. When he asks Bucky to lay on the ground, he does so.

"Is it something I know?"

"It's something you love," Steve says.

"Is it you, then?" He asks innocently, so soft he almost whispers it. Steve's heart skips a beat. Bucky never confessed his love out loud — he didn't feel like he needed to, anyway.

"No... But I love you too, honey."

"You know I do, right?"

"Do what?"

"Love you."

"I know," Steve says, and laughs at what he said. Goddamnit,he sounds like Han Solo.

"Do I need to tell you? Always?"

"Only if you want to. But this right here is just is enough."

"Okay."

"Okay."

A couple of minutes later, Steve finishes his art. "Done," he says.

He realizes Bucky is sleeping, so calm it looks like an angel — he always does. So Steve slowly gets up and stands up.

"Stevie?" A sleepy Bucky asks, rolling onto his back to look for his partner.

"Buck... The paint was still fresh!" Steve says laughing.

"Oh, oh!" Bucky stands up, eyes widened. Then he looks at the floor, smiles and laughs.

On the white floor beneath them now has a blurry version of Starry Night by Van Gogh.

"At least here I can see what it is."

"You like it?"

"I love it. Like I love you."

* * *

Bucky likes to sleep on the studio now, next to the painting on the floor — he asked Steve to keep it there. _It's a pretty memory, Stevie, _he said_. When I step on it, it's like walking in a little sky with the stars._

Steve lays down on the mattress next to Bucky every night and never leaves his to own bedroom. Not a single day.

In one night they don't sleep, just talk all night long — now that Bucky is getting better and better he likes to talk about everything at any time of the day. Steve listens, nods, talks too, but mostly let him do the job. In the moonlight, suddenly Bucky stops talking and quietly lands his hand on Steve's head (so soft, so careful), and neither of them say a word. Bucky keeps touching Steve with his fingertips, like a blind man trying to read, and before Steve closes his own eyes, he sees Bucky's are closed.

"Hair... Fluffy, soft," Bucky keeps feeling Steve. "Ears... Funny... And skin, so soft too, pale even though I can't see it... Pretty. Nose... Crooked, funny too, but I like it... Eyes... Can't see them, no, but they are blue so blue, like the ocean and the sky... You're mine. And so blue... I'm yours... I love you, Steve, I do. Eyelashes, hm, they are long, like you can see everything... Maybe you do... You see right through me, don't you?" He pauses. Steve can feel a smile on his voice. "And lips, lips I kiss. Pink and soft and velvet and I taste it. Taste so good..."

Steve sighs, feeling his whole body on fire. He opens his mouth, feeling Bucky's fingers still on his lips.

"Bucky... _Oh_..."

"If I couldn't see anything... Anything, Stevie... You would still be the prettiest for me."

"God, I love you so much."

"Give me your hand." Bucky asks and Steve does. "Feel this? _Is because I feel you in every part of me._"

As he talks, he places Steve's hand on his heart. It's beating so fast, like Steve's, both of them gasping for breath. Steve sucks a bit of Bucky's fingertip, and they both open their eyes to look at each other.

Bucky moans so softly Steve almost don't hear him.

"See what you do?" He asks.

"I feel you, Bucky, I can feel all of you in me too... That's our love, honey, that's what it does. Let me feel you, Bucky..."

"Touch me, Steve, please. Feel me."

And Steve does, his heart racing so much he thought he would explode, but he didn't care at all. He touches every single part of Bucky, parts he only could feel in his wildest dreams. It feels like his first time, but that's because it is. Nothing compares to this. It's like tasting heaven and hell all at once. So sweet. So good. And all that fire...

Bucky tasted Steve once, twice, like a drug he was addicted and wanted more. He felt like he couldn't control his desire and for the first time he didn't care, because it was for Steve, and it was so sweet and he tastes so sweet, like honey, like they called each other.

"You taste so sweet."

"_Like tangerine_?" Steve asks, and smiles.

"Yes, Stevie, like tangerine. Or better." Bucky whispers and Steve kisses him like he was trying to prove his point.

**Author's Note:**

> comments are appreciated!


End file.
